


Jigsaw Gothic Revivalism

by aformofmotion



Series: The Length of Time Between Stars [2]
Category: The 4400, due South
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aformofmotion/pseuds/aformofmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four whole years after his disappearance, Fraser reappears in a burst of light. Along with 4399 other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jigsaw Gothic Revivalism

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no background in architecture or the military, so both my title and the (very brief) discussion of the difference between MIA and AWOL were taken entirely from five minute google searches. If I've cocked something up, feel free to come tell me so.

Fraser was sitting alone at an empty table and the Feds were doing a pretty good job of making it look like a prison visit, despite the fact that Fraser (and most of the other returnees) hadn't done anything wrong. His face lit up when he saw Ray.

"Fraser," he said softly, momentarily stunned by the reality of him. Then Fraser stood to greet him and his hands were in Fraser's hair and his lips were on Fraser's lips and it was just as good as he'd remembered. Four years and a niggling sense of propriety made him pull back after a second and drop into his seat. The Fed by the door was doing a pretty good job of looking uncomfortable while also pretending not to have seen anything.

"I must admit, Ray," Fraser said, "when I learned how long it had been I was afraid you might have..."

"What, moved on? In case the whole Stella thing escaped your attention, that's not a thing I do real well."

"So there's no one else?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that."

"I don't see how."

"That, my friend, is because you've been MIA for the last four years."

"Actually, Ray, the appellation MIA is meant to refer to those whose whereabouts are unknown due to not returning from combat and given that we were not in an official combat situation, even if you count our encounter with whatever those creatures were, and I had been given no permission to vanish, as it were, for four years, it would be more accurate to say that I was AWOL."

" _Whatever_." He rolled his eyes. "Point being, you weren't around, so you don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"Well, if you'd quit interrupting me, I'd tell you."

"My apologies. Go on."

"Thank you." But with the snark out of way, he couldn't think of a single way to explain him and Vecchio that didn't make them sound like they belonged in a nuthouse. "Okay. Okay, you know this thing I got for you? Vecchio's got it, too. And, uh, we maybe kinda got it for each other, too."

"Ah." His face was completely unreadable, which is exactly what Kowalski had been expecting and was just as irritating as he remembered.

"See? Complicated."

"I do see how that would complicate things. I presume you've spoken about this."

"Oh, yeah. You wouldn't _believe_ how much we've talked about it."

Fraser nodded. "And what conclusions did you come to?"

"That it's up to you what happens next." He took a deep breath. "You can come back with us, when you get out of here, or split us up, or not split us up, or have both or either or whatever you want to do." His eyes darted away nervously, toward the Fed. "Anyway, you got a day to think about it."

Fraser's hand on his wrist stopped him in the act of standing up. "Ray."

"Yeah?"

"I don't need a day to think about it."

"No?" It came out as practically a squeak. "Well, uh, take it anyway. I'll see you tomorrow."

And then he practically fled the building.

 

That night he tossed and turned so much that he woke himself up thrice. The third time he woke Vecchio up as well. But when Vecchio moved to hold him still (which should have helped, _always_ helped, had from the beginning) it just made him more jittery and he jumped out of the bed and started pacing, like he could walk the nerves away.

"Thought I was the worried one," Vecchio said, his voice quiet and sleep-rough.

"Yeah, well, it's contagious or something. I'm bad at waiting."

"I know," he said, probably remembering stakeouts long past. "Come back to bed."

"Can't. I gotta-" He stopped with his hand on the door, unable to just leave Vecchio there. "I gotta  _do_ something."

Vecchio watched him for a minute. "Wanna fuck?" he offered.

"Could be the last time," he blurted. He hadn't even known he was going to say it until it came out, and then it hung there in the air betweem. He realized he was shaking just as bad as he had during the first year of Fraser's absense. Vecchio was staring at him, looking as scared as he felt.

"Better make it good, then."

They remained frozen like that for a minute, then they were on each other like it was the end of the world. Hell, maybe it was.

It was just like the first time, desperate, and terrified, and quick. He didn't feel any better afterward, just lay there shivering until he fell into a restless sort of half-sleep.

 

"Ray," Fraser began, and that was as far as Kowalski let him get.

He leapt up from his chair and paced around the small open area of the visiting room. He could feel both sets of eyes on him. "I know. I know, you got an answer for us, but I need- I dunno, I need a minute or something to prepare myself or something. An' I know, I shoulda done that before we got here but I've been trying and I don't know if-"

"Ray," Fraser repeated, and Kowalski stopped in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Please sit back down."

He sat, but his knuckles rapped the tabletop nervously and he couldn't bring himself to look at Fraser head on, glancing up and then away before his eyes could land on Fraser's face. Mostly he stared at Fraser's carefully folded hands, laying steady on the tabletop in direct contrast to his own. Vecchio's hands were hidden from view, shoved in his lap and probably going white at the knuckles but at least he  _looked_ composed.

They were sitting next to each other, but carefully not touching. It was surreal. The whole conversation was right up there in the list of weirdest shit he'd ever done. (Which was saying a _lot_ , considering.)

"You seem to be bracing yourself for bad news."

"Yeah, well-"

"You needn't be. I love you." He offered one of his hands across the table and Kowalski latched onto it with more ferocity than may have been necessary. "I love both of you. If you were serious when you said we could have both, I don't see any problem trying to integrate into the relationship you already have."

"Oh," Kowalski said weakly, something giddy like relief welling up inside his chest, and he had to force himself from leaping up again, from leaping across the table to show Fraser how serious he was. "Oh, good."

Fraser smiled at him. "When I said I hoped the two of you would get along, I never imagined..."

"Us either, Benny," Vecchio said. The most difficult part - for him - finished when Fraser had rendered judgement, he was definitely the more collected one. "Came as a complete shock."

"How did your...?"

"Crazy-ass thing," Kowalski supplied.

"Relationship, Kowalski," Vecchio said, rolling his eyes. "The word he was going for was  _relationship_."

"Yes," Fraser said. "How did it begin?"

So they told the story in fits and starts and with a good deal of contradictions. How Kowalski had ended up in the spare room at the Vecchio house, and months of pent up frustration - at each other, at their inability to find even a single lead, at the universe for taking Fraser away from them - had suddenly exploded into sex so desperate and so frequent that it started to interfere with their work. How they'd realised they had to either stop _or_ \- and obviously they'd gone with the second option. How Frannie had figured it out almost before they had and then insisted on taking Ma with her when she moved in with her new husband. When they were finished, Fraser just nodded.

"What, uh, what are you thinking?" Kowalski asked after a minute.

Fraser hesitated, then said, "Are you sure?"

Kowalski stared at him, comprehension dawning slowly. Fraser wasn't sure they wanted him? How could he not  _know?_ How could he look at them and not see it?

He must have made some sort of noise, because Vecchio's hand closed around his, too deliberate to be a coincidence. He tightened his grip blindly on Fraser's hand, as if he could communicate his surety through his skin. Vecchio must have reached at out some point because when he dared to look his other hand was on the table, clasped lightly in Fraser's. He stared blankly, but Vecchio seemed to have a better grasp of words than he did.

"Are you nuts, Benny? Course we're sure."

He looked up finally and nodded, not quite trusting his voice just yet. He thought if he tried to talk he'd end up babbling something unbearably flowery.

"Okay?" Vecchio promted.

"Okay, Ray," Fraser said softly.

They stayed like that, held in the moment, until the nearby Fed cleared his throat.

" _What?_ " Kowalski snapped.

"I'm sorry, sirs," he said, looking faintly embarrassed. "Visiting hours are over. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

Slowly, Kowalski  disengaged himself and moved toward the door with a mumbled, "Later, Frase."

It wasn't until they were outside again that he felt like he could start to breath again.

"Lotta help you were," Vecchio muttered.

He rested his head against the car window. "Sorry. Sorry, christ, sorry, I'm a freak."

"I knew that already," Vecchio said fondly, then, "It could have gone worse."

They looked at each other for a second and then burst into laughter, the sort of laughter that was more hysteria than amusement.

 

Things went slightly more smoothly the next day, and the ones following. It only got awkward when they tried to talk about their arrangement; Kowalski blamed the fact that they were all so acutely aware of the presense of the Fed.

"Any idea when they're gonna let you out of here, Frase?"

Fraser shook his head. "No, Ray. They don't tell us anything. But they have no legal ground to hold us, and they know it. With the protests, I can't image it will be too much longer. Speaking of, did I see Frannie-?"

"Yeah," Vecchio said. "Sam's on one of his business trips and she's latched unto the 'plight of the 4400' to keep herself busy. You'd think two kids at home would be enough for her, but you know Frannie."

"Don't ask her about it unless you're prepared for a lecture," he said. "She can still out talk, well, anyone."

"Including herself," Vecchio muttered.

He would have laughed, but they were still too tense for that.

"Frannie has two children?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah," Vecchio said. "A girl and a boy. Claire and Benji. They're good kids. Claire's adopted. Not long after you..." He trailed off and looks away. "Anyway, she's gonna be sixteen this year. Benji's hers and Sam's, naturally, if you catch my meaning."

"I do. You must be quite proud of her."

Kowalski shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

Vecchio elbowed him in the ribs.

"Dief misses you. We woulda brought him with us, but the feds won't let him in the building."

"That's probably just as well," Fraser said. "This is no place for a wolf."

"Doesn't look like much of a place for people."

"It's a perfectly adequate shelter-"

"Of course  _you_ wouldn't complain."

 

His hands itched to grab one of theirs, both or either he wasn't picky, but he kept them clenched at his sides as they exited the NTAC quarantine building. They got in the car in complete silence, not even looking at each other. Fraser sat in the back seat with his hands folded in his lap, politely staring out the window, while Vecchio and Kowalski took their usual seats in the front.

Kowalski's leg started bouncing up and down anxiously nearly as soon as he sat down, and he wanted Vecchio to put his hand out to steady it, like he always did, except Fraser was in the back seat and he didn't know if that would be okay, if it would be showing off or not, and he didn't want to do anything that would make Fraser uncomfortable with them, not now.

Vecchio pulled into an alley maybe a block later and slammed on the breaks.

"Get out of the car," he said, halfway through the act himself.

"What? Why?"

"Get out of the damn car, Kowalski." He crossed in front of the hood and put himself firmly into his space, not quite close enough to calm Kowalski's singing nerves. "Remember when we spent two days avoiding each other after agreeing to start this thing?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." He grabbed his collar and hauled him into a quick kiss. "I don't wanna do that again, so can you just get in the backseat with Fraser and make out or something? You're making me nervous."

"Sorry."

"You avoided each other for two days?" Fraser asked though the open window.

He shrugged. "It wasn't our best moment."

"Oh, Ray."

 

"There's my room," Vecchio said, as if Fraser had never been in the house before. "Kowalski's on the left."

"Looks less suspicious if we've got supposedly separate rooms," Kowalski explained. "Frannie knows, and Sam, but better to keep it close."

"Here's you," Vecchio said, pushing open the door. "Stow your stuff, I'll get dinner started." He leaned over and kissed Kowalski chastely, the way people kiss when it's second nature, then glanced at Fraser, not shyly but something close. "Benny, can I, uh...?"

Fraser smiled. "Of course, Ray."

So Vecchio kissed him, too, more deliberately but no less chaste, and disappeared down the stairs.

Kowalski followed Fraser into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him put his few possessions away. "The Ice Queen let us take your stuff from the Consulate when the replacement she hired came down. The guy's a disaster, worse than Turnbull, but I guess he does all right with the paperwork. She'll send him packing when you tell her you want the job back."

"I wouldn't want to take the poor man's livelyhood."

"Same old Fraser." He grinned. "Between you and me, I think he'll jump at the chance to go back up north. He didn't exactly take to city life."

"It can be a difficult transition," Fraser said, nodding.

"Yeah, I bet." He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "I missed you, Fraser. I just... missed you."

Fraser looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he knew he should say something but he didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, Ray."

He wasn't sure who was more surprised by the sob that tore out of him, him or Fraser. He threw himself at Fraser just as Fraser took a concerned step toward him, as if he could stop himself from breaking just by being _closer_. It didn't work; he bunched his fists into the fabric of Fraser's sweater and held on.

"Ray," Fraser said, sounding bewildered.

"Fraser." He kissed him, even more frantic and out of control than the first time, and Fraser didn't respond so much as give way, letting Kowalski take what comfort he could get. A whistle from the doorway finally separated them.

"Do you have any idea what you look like?"

"That better be a compliment, Vecchio."

"It is." The appraising way Vecchio looked at them was not subtle. "I was going to ask you to set the table, but you're obviously in the middle of something."

"Nonsense, Ray," Fraser said. "We'd be pleased to help. Isn't that right, Ray?"

"Uh, yeah, pleased," Kowalski echoed.

"Uh-huh." Vecchio rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"We'll be right down, Ray," Fraser said. Vecchio waved over his shoulder.

"Hey, Frase," Kowalski started, shuffling his feet. "I'm, uh, sorry about attacking you with my mouth there. It's been a rough four years."

"That's quite all right, Ray."

 

Huey was out with the flu, so Welsh had Vecchio on Dewey's stakeout. It shouldn't have been a big deal, Kowalski knew. Hell, that sort of thing had happened more than once _before_ the Return, one or both of them temporarily partnered with someone else.

Now that Fraser was back it made even more sense.

In theory.

In practice, Kowalski was on edge for most of the evening, picked at his food without eating much and squirmed under Fraser's concerned gaze until it was late enough to justify going to bed. He felt a little better then, Fraser's arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly inside his skin. He thought _Fraser learned that from watching Vecchio_ and his heart stuttered clumsily even as the rest of his body relaxed into sleep.

It was a restless sleep, he was too aware of Vecchio's absense from the bed that should be holding all three of them to sleep soundly, and he woke up alone. Whatever dream he'd been trying to hold onto ground to a screeching halt. Every thought process in his head stopped. He might've even stopped breathing, for just a minute, before he was on his feet and running through the house. Shouting for Fraser like his life depends on it. Because it'd been four years of learning to live without Fraser and only a couple of months since the Return, and in the hazy few moments after waking up it could have been a dream. It was the only thing he could get through his brain in words rather than pure sensation, if it was a dream he was done, kaput, finis, he _could not_ deal with losing Fraser again, not even for a second, and Vecchio would find him in the morning with his heart torn out of his chest-

Fraser stepped out of the bathroom in his sleep clothes and messy hair, concern wrinkling his brow. "Yes, Ray?"

Logic and reason finally caught up with him at that and he collapsed sideways against the wall, relief and embarrasment warring over which got to be the stronger emotion. Relief won out by about a mile. Fraser's concerned look only deepened when he didn't say anything in response, so he flapped one hand uselessly at him. "You're real."

"Well, yes, last time I checked," Fraser said, frowning. And then it was very clear in his eyes that he'd figured out what had happened, but before Ray's relief could turn back to embarrasment he'd crossed the space between them and was murmuring reassurances into his hair.

The noise that clawed it's way out of Ray in response hurt, not just in his throat but in his soul, and he knew suddenly and without a doubt that if they weren't taking this thing slow for fear of scaring Fraser off he'd be begging for Fraser to fuck him, hard enough that Ray couldn't forget he was back because it would be etched into his bones. Instead he let Fraser tuck him back into the bed and curled up around him, head pressed to his chest so he could hear his heartbeat.

"I used to have nightmares," he said softly, the confession slipping out instead of whatever he'd intended to say. Fraser jerked like he'd been shot before holding onto him tighter, not interrupting like he knew it'd stop him talking. "About you disappearing. Not just when it happened but, like, memories. Where you should have been there but you weren't."

"I'm very sorry, Ray."

Kowalski snorted. "Yeah, cos it's totally your fault you got abducted by aliens or whatever."

Fraser said nothing in response to that, so they lay there in silence until Kowalski starts to get fidgety.

"Hey, Fraser?" Fraser hummed. "Talk to me?"

"Of course, Ray. Is there anything in particular you want me to talk about?"

"Nah, just tell me one of them eskimo stories."

"Inuit," Fraser corrected. Kowalski smiled and fell asleep listening to something about ice fishing.

 

Kowalski ordered the pizzas by rote, one for him, one for Vecchio, one for Fraser, and hung up the phone to find Fraser staring at him oddly. "What?"

"Pizza toppings seem an odd thing to remember for four years."

"Oh." He went slightly pink and confessed. "We always order one for you. Just in case, you know."

Fraser, who is not a great example of emotional articulacy, but at least he's in good company on that front, frowned. "That's wasteful, Ray."

"Nah," Vecchio said. "We take it down to the homeless shelter on the way to the 27. As long as we haven't taken a slice out of it they accept the donation."

The look on Fraser's face clearly said that he suddenly needed to kiss them both and had no idea how to politely go about it.  
Vecchio grinned and leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head. "Him first, Benny."

 

"I wish you'd just tell me if you've changed your minds," Fraser said, just as Kowalski was drifting off to sleep. It had the same effect as a bucket of ice water would have.

"What?" Vecchio asked, marginally more coherent than he was. Which is fortunate, because Kowalski has done the same thing he does every time he realises that Fraser  _legitimately can't tell_ how in love with him they are, and that thing is freeze.

Considering that the whole thing had started in the first place because he couldn't keep his mouth shut about it, it's a really annoying habit to have picked up.

"You don't have to pretend to want me here if you don't." He sounded more annoyed than anything else and Kowalski stared at him uselessly.

" _What?_ " Vecchio repeated. "And lemme say again, _what?_ Of course we want you here, what the hell would possibly make you think otherwise?"

Fraser went slightly pink. Possibly more than slightly, given that Kowalski could tell in the dim light of the room. "It's just, I know you aren't asexual, you told me yourselves that the turning point in your relationship was an overabundance of sexual encounters, but since I- since the Return, that is, we haven't- you haven't even  _attempted_ -"

Kowalski let out a hysterical giggle against his shoulder, tried to reign himself in, and found that he couldn't. He felt Fraser tense, clearly misinterpreting his laughter, but he couldn't stop. It was ridiculous.

"Not one bit of intelligence between the three of us," Vecchio muttered ruefully, clearly agreeing with him.

"I don't understand," Fraser said, still sounding somewhat miffed.

Kowalski managed to stop giggling and propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at him. "We've been waiting for you."

"We didn't want to push our luck," Vecchio explained. "Didn't want to ask for anything you weren't ready for."

"I'm ready." If it were anyone but Fraser, Kowalski would've said he sounded sullen, but since it  _was_ Fraser he was probably trying to decide whether to be offended or not.

"Okay," he agreed easily. This he could do, expressing himself through skin contact instead of words. Well, he'd kissed Fraser before he'd blabbered at him before, maybe he should've taken the hint then. He met Vecchio's eyes for half a second, just long enough to agree to a plan of attack. "No take-backs."

Fraser frowned, but it didn't last for long because that was when they decended in unison to take him apart.

 

Frannie took one look at them the next day and said, "Christ, finally. You're coming to dinner with me and Sam tonight, now that you aren't a nervous breakdown waiting to happen."

 

Fraser stepped unarmed in front of the man with the gun.

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd done so, not even close, they were both used to it once upon a time, even if they'd both confided a few years ago that it had ratcheted up their blood pressure every time. But it was the first time he'd done it since what everyone was calling the Return, and he'd only been officially back on duty for a couple of weeks. It was entirely too soon, is what Ray would have thought, if he'd been able to think through the sheer panic that flashed through him.

He heard Vecchio make a strangled sort of gasping noise, probably identical to the one he felt in his own throat, but when he looked over the man was halfway back into the Bookman. Kowalski followed suit, perching in glasses on his face and bringing up his gun, and he didn't shake at all because Fraser's life was hanging in the balance. The guy obviously faltered at the sight of them and dropped his weapon almost before the words were out of his mouth.

Kowalski was staring, gun still levelled at the guys head, unable to make himself move. Vecchio tossed his cuffs at Fraser without looking at him and snarled "Cuff him, Benny," in a voice Kowalski wished he didn't recognise. Then he was in front of him, talking the glasses off his face and tucking them gently back into his pocket, and Kowalski remembered to breath and shoved his gun back into the holster.

He watched, mostly numb, as Vecchio marched the perp to the car, the hand on his arm rougher than need be but Kowalski will vouch for it's necessity if he has to. He watched Vecchio shove the guy into a hold cell, watched him report to Welsh, watched the Bookman slip away as if Vecchio hadn't been ready to wear that skin again, like he hadn't been just as willing to shoot the guy even after his gun was down. By the time they got back to the house, he was starting to feel normal again. Which was good, because Vecchio clearly wasn't, if the hole he put in the wall as soon as the door was closed was any indication.

Fraser looked confused. "You're angry."

"Yeah, Benny, I'm angry," Vecchio snapped. "Christ, what were you thinking? We just got you back."

Kowalski didn't actually listen to the rant. He couldn't hear all the same things he'd been worried about thrown into the open air, not without freaking out again. One of them needed to be okay, today it was going to be him. So instead he tuned out Vecchio's shouting, honest to god shouting, and focused on the angry, terrified, expansive italian gesturing of his hands, as if he needed to learn the movements instead of unlearn them.

Eventually Vecchio ran out of words.

And Fraser, damn him,  _apologised_ , soft and utterly sincere.

All the anger seemed to drain out of Vecchio at once, leaving only the residual panic behind, and he shoved Kowalski out of the way in his rush to get into the bathroom before his stomach emptied itself.

Kowalski followed as far as the doorway and said, "I'd offer to hold your hair back, but..."

Vecchio flipped him off over his shoulder and drained about half the bottle of mouthwash they had sitting on the sink.

"You're not supposed to swallow that, Ray."

Kowalski was the okay one, so he forced himself to smirk and waggle his eyebrows.

Vecchio rolled his eyes. "Really, Kowalski?"

Fraser's not dumb. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or disapprove.

Ray is so in love with them it hurts.


End file.
